Work Text:
The nomufication process was not a pleasant thing to undergo, but it had its upsides. For one: the subject was not supposed to be conscious for most of the process, leaving them with scattered memories, mismatched snatches of pain and nothingness.
Kurogiri had no such escape when tasked with assisting doctor Ujiko with the creation of his latest Nomu. His role had not been of any significance — he mostly just stood there and handed the doctor whichever tool he had requested — but he could not step away at any point.
Occasionally, he even had to stand near the edge of the operating table and hold the body in whatever position was required, hands holding onto those tiny shoulders.
The entire body was tiny; Another of the doctor’s kindergarten finds, a child deemed unimportant enough to risk abduction. His hair had been green, before Kurogiri had been handed a shaver and told to get rid of it. He wore a hospital gown, since the uniform he had arrived in had long since been burned away.
There were so many scars on his body. Kurogiri could feel the starburst-shaped protrusions wherever he rested his hands. But there were others, too, scratches and cuts at various points of healing. Perhaps the nomufication would be a blessing, he couldn’t help but think. He hasn’t gained any scars ever since his own operation.
The process wasn’t long; It was painful and delicate, but the doctor had enough experience by now to move through the steps swiftly.
Soon enough, doctor Ujiko took a step back, wiping his hands clean.
“There,” he said, sounding satisfied. Better satisfied than upset, though the doctor did not react on his moods in any reliable way. Not like Tomura did. “That should do it. If it survives the modifications, I’ll be able to put in some useful quirks. Maybe another teleporter, huh? A quirkless body offers nothing but opportunities!”
The words sent a chill down Kurogiri’s spine. A second teleporter? If there was a replacement for him… He could get replaced.
He didn’t want to be replaced.
(Who would protect Tomura if he was gone?)
“Keep watch,” the doctor ordered him, already walking away. “If it fails, dispose of it.”
Doctor Ujiko trusted that Kurogiri would understand what he meant. He wasn’t trusting Kurogiri, so much as trusting that his commands held Kurogiri’s mind in an iron grip, perfectly molded to Doctor Ujiko’s preferences.
He’s never had any cause to suspect otherwise, after all.
Kurogiri stepped around the table, coming to a stop at the boy’s mid-section, looking him in the face. Even rendered unconscious, his face was twisted with pain. There was sweat beading along his temple, the incisions from the operation already healing under his newly acquired healing factor.
“Stand up,” he told the lying form firmly.
The boy failed to do so. Of course he did.
Kurogiri focused on the only scrap of memory he had left from before; The only proof of being anything other than Doctor Ujiko’s tool, no matter how small. The faint feeling of feeling safe — the texture of a firm scarf, a flash of red eyes, the impression of a cat, something soft and fluffy underneath him — had long since been Kurogiri’s only retreat when the horrors of his existence became too much.
He opened a portal underneath the boy, letting him sink through. Hopefully, he’d land somewhere trulysafe. If not… it was out of Kurogiri’s hands.
All that was important was that there would not be a second teleporter, at least not this time. Kurogiri would ensure that his position was irreplaceable.